


I Won't Let You Pull Me Down

by LuckyLadybug



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Attempted Sexual Assault, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Male Friendship, Protectiveness, Revenge, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-05
Updated: 2019-09-05
Packaged: 2020-10-10 11:57:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20527661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuckyLadybug/pseuds/LuckyLadybug
Summary: Post-series, my Pendulum Swings verse. TRIGGER WARNING. Johnson is assaulted by his former secretary. As he and the rest of the Big 5 struggle to deal with this, Nesbitt determines to take vengeance.





	I Won't Let You Pull Me Down

**Author's Note:**

> The characters from the show are not mine. The other characters and the story are! This is my post-series Pendulum Swings verse, which redeems the Big Five. I've had parts of this story written for months and have been waffling on finishing and posting it, but I finally got the inspiration to go ahead and do so. I really feel it's important to raise more awareness that men can be victims of sexual assault as well as women. While there is no completed rape in this story, the premise is built around attempted rape and there are two scenes of attempted rape (one very brief, the other an extended flashback), and so I leave a trigger warning. Please, PLEASE be careful reading or don't read if this sounds like something that might trigger you! Thanks to all the friends who helped me figure out how to work this story!

It was early September that night. Four of the Big Five were gathered around the fifth's kitchen table, waiting for their friend's return. Some were starting to get restless; Nesbitt was shifting and Crump was drumming his fingers on the table. Neither Gansley nor Lector bothered to tell them to settle down. They were growing impatient themselves. Lector checked his phone's clock while Gansley's thoughts wandered.

Johnson had been gone long enough that the others were all starting to worry. It had just been a simple meeting with a former secretary of his; how long could it take? She had asked him to come alone, that she needed to talk to him in private, and the rest had agreed to stay behind. But now Crump was pacing the floor, Nesbitt was the one drumming his fingers on the table, and Gansley and Lector were more tense than they were willing to admit aloud. It shouldn't be taking this long. And with their history of disastrous problems, it was plenty of reason to worry.

"He's not answering his phone," Nesbitt growled.

"Or texts," Crump added.

"It could be a more involved conversation than he thought," Gansley said.

Lector didn't know what to think. Of course, none of them did. But he was getting very tempted to suggest they go out looking for him, or at least to call the motel and ask for the woman's room. He likely would have, had the door not opened in the next moment.

They all perked up with one accord. "Johnson?" Gansley called.

Johnson came to the kitchen doorway, disheveled and shaken. Everyone stared. His hair was flying in all directions instead of staying perfectly combed. His glasses were crooked and his clothes were a rumpled mess. He didn't even seem to notice his loosened tie or his shirt half-hanging out of his pants.

"Johnson, what happened to you?!" Gansley demanded.

"I . . . I . . ." Johnson turned away, his hand badly trembling as he tried to adjust his glasses. His briefcase fell from his other hand, crashing on the floor, but he didn't even look.

"What the heck is wrong?!" Crump ran over and grabbed Johnson's arm.

Johnson screamed, slapping Crump's hand away as he ran to the stairs. "Don't touch me!" he yelled over his shoulder. A moment later the bathroom door slammed.

Crump flinched, looking badly affronted. "What the . . . ?! What did I do?!"

Lector, Gansley, and Nesbitt got up from the table. "I don't think it was you, Crump," Gansley frowned.

"Yeah, but . . ." Crump looked down at his hand, still red where Johnson had hit him.

"It was obvious something happened to him out there," Nesbitt growled.

"Something terrible." Lector picked up the abandoned briefcase and set it on the table.

Upstairs, the sound of the shower came on.

****

Everyone waited anxiously and worriedly for Johnson to get out of the shower. When the door finally opened, he was wearing only a towel and his glasses, and he ran across the upstairs hall to get to his room. He quickly slammed the door after him.

"Johnson?!" Crump called after him. "What the heck happened?! We're all worried here!" He went upstairs and over to the closed door.

Johnson didn't respond. Inside the room, it sounded like his bureau drawer was being slammed.

"Johnson?!" Nesbitt was over at the door now. "Did someone hurt you?!"

"Why would someone hurt me?!" Johnson's voice sounded practically strangled. "Because I can't take care of myself?! Because I'm just some little weak worm who can be taken advantage of by anyone who feels like it?!"

Everyone exchanged a bewildered and deeply concerned look.

"No, Johnson," Lector finally said. "Because you came in looking like you'd been to Hell and back."

"And because you clearly can't shake off whatever it was," Gansley added. "Johnson, we're worried about you. We won't judge you for what happened. We want to know what it was."

Johnson was silent. "It's not supposed to happen to me. . . . It's not supposed to happen to a man. . . ."

Gansley's stomach dropped. "Johnson . . . did that woman . . . force herself on you?"

Nesbitt looked to Gansley with a shocked start. Lector and Crump looked sick.

More silence. ". . . Yes, she did. And she had her paid thugs restrain me so she could . . ." Johnson trailed off with a choked sob.

Crump's eyes flamed. "Why that . . . ! No wonder he slapped me when I grabbed him!"

Nesbitt snarled. "They'll all pay for this," he vowed. "I'll make sure every one of them regrets what they did."

"Now, don't be rash," Gansley warned. "I know we all want to do something, and we're going to. But we're not going to foolishly charge in and just make everything worse."

Lector immediately tried the door and found it unlocked. "Johnson, will you let us come in?" he asked.

". . . Yes," Johnson mumbled.

Relieved, Lector opened the door and entered, the others following right behind him. Johnson was sitting forlornly on the bed, still dressed only in the towel and his glasses. He wouldn't meet their eyes.

Lector went over and knelt on one knee in front of him. "Johnson, look at me," he ordered. "This was not your fault. You have nothing to be ashamed of. You were a victim. It shouldn't happen to anybody, male or female. A lot of men keep quiet when they're assaulted because they feel too ashamed to come forward."

"It never would have happened to any of you," Johnson mumbled.

"None of us know that," Lector frowned. "Don't forget that I was repeatedly drugged so I could be restrained and beaten by that madman in Cooperstown. If he had wanted to do worse, I couldn't have stopped him."

Johnson looked at Lector in horror. "I didn't think about it that way."

"I was just lucky in that respect," Lector said.

Johnson finally nodded. ". . . I did get away," he said at last. "She wasn't able to . . . go through with it. . . ." He shuddered. "I don't know how I got away. . . ."

"Thank God you did," Gansley said quietly, relieved anew.

"But you were still hurt," Nesbitt snarled. "It'll take a long time for you to be able to recover from this. I won't forgive them." He clenched a fist. "Don't any of them have any pride?!"

Johnson helplessly shook his head, even though he knew it was a rhetorical question.

"I won't touch you until you tell me it's okay," Crump said. "I know it'll probably take a while. . . ."

". . . Not necessarily." Johnson reached out, slowly, shakily, touching Lector's shoulder and then Crump's arm. "This is different. . . . I know I can trust all of you. You would never hurt me. . . ."

"Never," Lector promised.

Johnson suddenly sobbed, leaning forward on the edge of the bed as he cried. Lector stared at him in horrified sorrow. Johnson was always so smooth, so smug, but the devastating things they had been going through had been peeling back those layers and revealing the vulnerable man underneath. Tonight, he had chosen to let them see that side of him. He couldn't put up his defenses now. Maybe at least part of him didn't want to.

Gansley and Crump laid their hands on Johnson's shoulders. Nesbitt, still inflamed with rage, finally placed his hand between Johnson's shoulder blades. He wanted Johnson to know he was also supporting him. But deep down, he was planning exactly what he would do to everyone who had played a part in reducing Johnson to this. None of them would escape his wrath, and honestly, he felt completely justified in his thoughts.

Lector finally laid his hands on Johnson's. "We are all here for you, Johnson," he promised. "And we will help you get through this!"

At the moment, Johnson didn't know how he would ever get through it. But knowing his loved ones were with him was certainly a comfort. They couldn't fully understand the horror and the shock and the helplessness and vulnerability, since they hadn't experienced it themselves—and he would never wish such a thing on any of them. But they were all trying their best.

All the movement finally jarred the towel still around Johnson's waist. It started to slip loose, but he didn't notice. Crump did, however, and he reached down to tighten it again. Johnson jumped a mile, turning to look at Crump with wild and frightened eyes. But then he knew, and he relaxed again. "Thank you," he said quietly.

"Yeah." Crump patted him on the shoulder.

****

No one quite knew what to do or how to handle what had happened. Gansley called the police to tell them about it, but while he was doing that, Nesbitt was formulating a plan of his own. He turned and stormed from the room.

Lector looked after him with a jerk. "Please excuse me," he said to Johnson. He got up and hurried after Nesbitt.

Gansley sighed to himself. He knew what Nesbitt no doubt was leaving to do, and while he didn't blame him in the least, he hoped there was some chance of stopping him from doing something completely rash. Nesbitt had stopped Gansley from inflicting bodily harm on another of their enemies recently, but it was too much to think that he would always be able to restrain himself. Something like this was more than enough to snap Nesbitt's self-control again.

Indeed, Lector caught up to Nesbitt downstairs at the front door. "Just what do you think you're doing?!" he exclaimed. "We need to stay here with Johnson!"

"We know where Johnson went to meet that tramp," Nesbitt snarled. "And he said those grunts of hers were staying with her. What do you think I'm going to do?"

"You're going to go out and get yourself hurt," Lector snapped. "Gansley's called the police, for Heaven's sake! They'll go try to find those people."

"I can get there faster," Nesbitt insisted. "The police will probably want to come talk to Johnson before they do anything else!" He pulled on his suitcoat and hauled the door open. "Besides . . . they won't do what should really be done. These monsters all deserve to suffer for this!"

"Nesbitt, you can't take them all on!" Lector cried.

"Why not?" Nesbitt snarled. He grabbed his kendo bokken off the table.

Lector grabbed the other end of it. "Nesbitt, we all want to see them caught. But you know very well that this way, you might end up arrested yourself! Or worse—they could try to do to you what they wanted to do to Johnson!"

Nesbitt pulled the bokken free of Lector's grasp. "I'd like to see them try," he spat.

"Nesbitt, you really are being a fool!" Lector cried out in despair. "You're still just one man!"

"At least I'm trained to fight," Nesbitt countered. "You're not." He stormed out onto the porch.

Lector knew that was true. But it didn't stop him from running after Nesbitt.

It was an odd combination, but Nesbitt was the stealthiest and fastest of the five of them, in addition to being the most reckless and impulsive. He was nowhere to be seen when Lector chased him onto the porch. And then somehow, Lector heard a car engine start up.

"Nesbitt, you idiot!" Lector yelled at the top of his lungs. "If you go and get yourself raped, how is that going to make Johnson feel?!"

If Nesbitt heard, he ignored it. His navy blue car peeled out of the driveway at top speed.

Lector hit one of the porch pillars in anguish. He couldn't blame Nesbitt in the least for what he wanted to do; they did deserve to pay, and pay through the nose. Lector wanted to see justice done himself, and he had to admit that he didn't think just getting arrested was good enough. But Nesbitt was being his usual reckless self, and he could end up causing more problems instead of fixing the one they already had.

"What's going on?"

Lector whirled. Gansley had come to the bottom of the stairs and was gripping the railing. From his eyes, he knew exactly what had happened, but he wanted desperately to be wrong.

"I couldn't stop him!" Lector exclaimed. "He's gone out to take them all down by himself!"

Gansley growled. "Go after him, Lector," he said. "Crump and I will stay here with Johnson."

Lector gave a shaky nod. "Alright. But when the police come, please, please tell them Nesbitt just went out to try to keep them from leaving!" He knew that was at least partially Nesbitt's motivation, so it wasn't a lie.

"You don't really think I'd admit that he went out to beat them all up with kendo, do you?" Gansley retorted.

"No . . . of course not. I'll try to be back soon." Lector pulled the door shut and ran down the driveway to his car. Nesbitt already had a headstart, and it might be too much of one. Lector desperately prayed under his breath as he got into his car and started the engine. They already had one calamity to deal with. They certainly didn't need another. And he couldn't bear to think of Nesbitt being hurt too.

****

It didn't take Nesbitt long to find the secluded motel where the woman had wanted to meet Johnson. And, he discovered as he arrived, he was just in time; they were all hurriedly packing into a van to try to leave. He blocked the only exit with his car and got out, kendo bokken in hand. "You didn't really think you could get off that easily, did you?"

They all jumped a mile at the dark and dangerous voice. Donna, Johnson's former secretary, looked over with fear in her eyes. "Nesbitt," she squeaked.

"Not so tough now, eh?" Nesbitt came closer. "You filth! You're all going to pay for what you've done!"

"It's not like anything even happened," one of the thugs sneered. "That little weasel friend of yours got away."

Nesbitt pointed the bokken right at him. "Oh, something happened," he snapped. "Just trying to do it was more than enough! Johnson won't get over this for a long time, if ever!" He looked back to Donna. "He trusted you! He never thought he would be in danger from you!"

Donna's eyes darted about. She knew she was in serious trouble; Nesbitt had been studying kendo for many years and currently held a 5th Dan rank, one of the highest. "How much do you want?" she said desperately. "I'll give you money!"

"You think I care about money?!" Nesbitt roared.

Two of the thugs were trying to come up on him from behind. Sensing it, he dived out of the way and struck one of them down.

"What are you going to do?!" Donna shrieked. "Kill us all?!"

Nesbitt gave her a hateful look. "No. I don't want to kill any of you. I want to leave you all alive to suffer even more. Death is too good for garbage like you."

The fight was long and hard, or at least, it seemed so to the participants. Nesbitt was definitely skilled in his art, as the thugs discovered over and over whenever they tried to attack him. He would dodge and dive and strike back, hitting their hands or arms with his bokken. But he wasn't infallible, of course; as the battle wore on, several managed to land harsh blows on him. At one point when he was distracted, one of them knocked his legs out from under him and he slipped, crashing to the ground. They were immediately upon him, beating him with their strong fists. One even managed to divert a blow from his bokken and cause it to hit him in the head instead.

Nesbitt was undaunted, despite the sudden sharp and burning pain. He kicked two of them back enough that he could move, and swung his bokken in a sharp arc that disabled the rest of the attacks on him long enough for him to get to his feet.

By now he was clearly hurting. His left shoulder was throbbing and it was difficult to stand on his right leg. Both were likely badly bruised and skinned at the very least, and he was sure his bokken had left a bruise over his left eye, where it had hit. Still, he resumed his threatening stance as best as he could.

The strongmen sneered and began to advance on him again. "You know, taming you like we tried to do to your buddy would be a lot of fun," one of them said. "I'm sure Donna would get a charge out of it, and we sure would regardless." He made a grab for Nesbitt, who smacked his hand away at the wrist with his bokken. A scream of pain tore from the wretch's lips.

"Try that again and I won't aim for your hand," Nesbitt threatened. "As far as I'm concerned, anything I do to any of you is justified after what you did to Johnson. There is no excuse for your actions."

The fight continued, but even though Nesbitt was wearing down and injured himself, he still eventually managed to bring down almost every one of Donna's thugs. The final one stood, breathing heavily, glowering at him.

"You've done a lot better than I thought you could," he said.

"A lot of people underestimate me," Nesbitt said. "They regret it."

"And you'll regret underestimating me!" The burly man lunged without warning, coming in from Nesbitt's injured left side. Before Nesbitt could successfully defend himself they fell to the ground. Stars and pain exploded through Nesbitt's brain. He had hit his head on the parking lot. He fell back in a daze.

"Now you're in for it." The sickening man straddled Nesbitt and reached down, loosening Nesbitt's belt. "You're feisty. I'm going to enjoy this probably more than if it was your friend."

Nesbitt forced himself to hold on to consciousness. He struck out, knocking his assailant's hands away before hitting him in the groin with the bokken. The thug fell back, screaming in pain. Nesbitt scrambled up and pressed down hard on the pressure point at the back of the man's neck. He fell over on the ground, unconscious.

A wave of dizziness nearly sent Nesbitt back to the ground, but he forced himself to stay upright. He was the last one standing; he was the victor. Donna, without a way of escape, was standing by the van with wide and terrified eyes. He looked to her with hate. He couldn't leave her free either. He grabbed her and shoved her into the van.

"What are you going to do to me?!" she exclaimed. "Are you going to do to me what I tried to do to Thomas?!"

Nesbitt's expression contorted in disgust. "No." He pulled off his tie, his hands shaking, and bound her wrists to the steering wheel with several firm knots. She didn't struggle against him, still shaken from watching him fell so many men bigger than he.

When she was secure he stumbled back, raising a hand to his head. During the adrenaline rush he had forced himself not to notice so much, but now he was feeling the pain of every blow that had landed on him, including the blow to his head that the last grunt had delivered. He had won, but he was defeated now too. He staggered away from the van and fell to the ground, the bokken falling from his hand.

It was moments later when Lector pulled up at the motel, his heart pounding furiously in his chest. Everyone was still there; all the thugs were sprawled on the ground and he could see Donna tied up inside the van. Nesbitt really had done well. But . . .

Lector stopped short as he got out of his car, his heart gathering speed. Nesbitt was lying in the center of the circle of thugs, sprawled on his side, his bokken on the asphalt just out of his reach. He may have done damage to those he had attacked in his burst of impulsive outrage, but they had taken him down too. He was still only one person.

Lector ran over and dropped to his knees in despair. "Nesbitt . . . you're a fool," he choked out. His hands shaking, he searched for a pulse and checked for broken bones before he lifted the lifeless body into his arms. Seeing Nesbitt's pained and still face only shattered him all the more. "You're a fool," he said again, and clutched the man close as a rare sob rose in his throat.

****

Gansley was restless. First Johnson had almost been violated by that woman for some unknown reason, and now Nesbitt had gone off to beat up everyone who had hurt Johnson. And Johnson was in the shower again. Gansley really didn't know how to deal with any of it, but he was trying his best.

He had looked up several websites on how victims of rape or attempted rape tended to behave and what their loved ones could do to help. Some behaviors surprised him while some didn't, and it certainly didn't surprise him that every site stressed the importance of loved ones being kind and understanding and never casting blame on the victim. The very thought of acting otherwise turned his stomach. Johnson was certainly not to blame.

Gansley's phone ringing startled him to the present. He grabbed it immediately. "Lector, what's going on?!" he demanded.

He could barely understand what the younger man was saying. Lector was clearly not only badly shaken, but devastated. Just like when Noa Kaiba had been struck down by a car those years ago, Lector couldn't deal with what had happened.

"Calm down, Lector!" Gansley finally told him. "I can't make heads or tails out of what you're saying."

He heard Lector drawing a deep breath. "I said Nesbitt beat up everyone who hurt Johnson. Well, he didn't beat Donna, but he left her tied up. And . . . they beat him up too. I was too late to help him. . . ."

Gansley's stomach dropped. "How bad is it?"

He listened as Lector tried to rehearse what had been happening since Lector had found Nesbitt. "I see," he said at the conclusion. "Yes, I'll tell Crump and Johnson. Do you need any help, Lector? Crump could go out."

"I believe I can manage," Lector said. "How is Johnson?"

"In the shower again," Gansley sighed sadly. "I've been researching victims' reactions and apparently this is common."

"Poor Johnson. . . ." Lector sighed too. "We should be back soon."

"Alright. Stay safe." Gansley hung up and covered his face with a hand. "Oh. . . ."

"What's the trouble?" Crump asked as he entered the room.

"When it rains, it pours," Gansley replied.

It took a while to explain everything to Crump, who kept interrupting with horrified exclamations. By the time Gansley had told it all, the front door was opening.

"I'll go help them," Crump exclaimed, pushing up from the table.

Gansley was about to follow when a scream and a crash from upstairs changed his plans. He ran to the bathroom door in an instant. "Johnson?!" He rattled the knob. "Johnson, open this door!"

He could hear Johnson groaning inside, but there was no attempt to open the door. Gansley would have none of that. He slammed his body against it, desperate to weaken it. Of course Johnson had locked the door. But now Gansley had to get it open.

It flew open, banging on the wall as the doorframe tore free as well. Johnson was slumped over the edge of the tub, only semi-conscious, if that. His skin was red from the heat of the water. Gansley swore under his breath and ran in, heedless of his aching knees. "Johnson!" He grabbed his friend's shoulders and tried to haul him up.

Immediately Johnson came to life, screaming and clawing and desperately trying to push Gansley away. One sharp fingernail scratched Gansley's cheek, and he clenched his teeth in pain. But he held on, determined not to let go. "Johnson, it's me!" he called. "You're safe. But you almost wouldn't have been, if I hadn't been right here!" He reached over to turn off the shower. "You had it so hot you fainted!"

"Gansley . . . ?" Johnson opened his eyes, trying to focus on his dear friend. "I . . . I couldn't help it. . . . The water had to be hot. . . . I had to wash off her touch . . . and their touches. . . ." He shut his eyes again, tightly. "She said I never gave her what she wanted when she worked for me, so she was going to forcibly take it. . . . They were all laughing. They . . . they said that . . . when she had her fill . . . maybe they would . . ." He trembled.

Hatred flamed in Gansley's eyes. "None of them will ever get you again," he vowed. "They'll have to go through all of us, and I can promise you, that won't happen."

Johnson clutched at Gansley's arm. "I . . . I need to get out. . . ."

"Can you stand?" Gansley frowned.

"Yes. . . ." Johnson started to, but then hesitated.

"It's alright," Gansley insisted. "I won't look. And even if I happened to see by accident, you know you would have nothing to fear from me."

Johnson finally nodded. "I know." He shakily started to climb out of the tub. True to his word, Gansley kept his gaze firmly planted on Johnson's upper body, standing by to make sure he could get out without help.

Johnson immediately grabbed a heavy towel he had left on the edge of the counter and pulled it around himself. "If they really had . . . tried . . . I wonder whether I'd let you be here at all . . . or touch me. . . . And I hate myself for those thoughts, because I know none of you would ever . . ." He sank down on the edge of the tub.

Gansley sat next to him. "It would be a normal response under the circumstances," he said. "It wouldn't be anything personal against us."

"But I would still feel ugly for it." Johnson leaned forward. "I would never want to feel that way about my friends . . . my family. . . ."

"And you don't," Gansley said.

Johnson slowly nodded. ". . . Oh no." He stared at Gansley. "I hurt you. . . ."

"Bah, it's nothing," Gansley retorted. "Don't worry about it."

"But I never wanted to . . ." Johnson sank back.

"I know," Gansley said.

Johnson fell silent. ". . . Is Nesbitt back?"

Gansley hesitated. "Yes, he's back. . . ."

"What happened? Did he get them?"

Another hesitation, longer. "Yes, he did. The police have them all arrested now, including her."

"He won't get in trouble for what he did, will he?"

"Oddly enough, Seto Kaiba said he would pull some strings for us, given the circumstances," Gansley said. "He wouldn't say so, but I think he actually agreed with what Nesbitt did. I would agree more if it hadn't turned out the way it did . . . but I can't deny that Nesbitt stopped them from getting away. The police wouldn't have arrived in time."

Johnson got up. "I'd like to talk to Nesbitt. . . ."

Gansley stood too, sickened now. "You can talk to him all you want, but I'm afraid he won't be able to answer you."

Johnson paled. "You mean . . ."

"Lector brought him back unconscious," Gansley quietly told him. "He did get them . . . but they got him as well."

Johnson swayed and had to grab for the sink. "They didn't . . . ?!" He couldn't bring himself to finish his sentence, but it was obvious what he meant. It was on Gansley's mind as well.

"It doesn't look like it," Gansley said, "although we can't know for sure until he can wake up and tell us."

"Oh no. . . ." Johnson swallowed hard. Out of all of them, Nesbitt was the one most firmly opposed to any kind of romantic or lustful relationship, as he was both asexual and aromantic. It would be unspeakably cruel for him to have been violated, especially when trying to bring down the people who had tried to harm Johnson.

". . . He was beaten very badly," Gansley said quietly. "We don't know if he's going to wake up. Lector had one of Mr. Kaiba's doctors examine him at the medical center, and he said there was nothing the hospital could really do for him that we couldn't do here. He even thought it might be better for him to be here . . . with his loved ones close by . . . so Lector brought him home. . . ."

Now Johnson did lose his balance. That made it sound like the doctor thought there was no hope. He started to sink to his knees. "No . . . oh God, no . . ."

Gansley caught him and held him close. "Nesbitt is a fighter," he insisted. "He's going to be alright."

Johnson wasn't as sure. He clutched Gansley as another sob of despair rose in his throat.

****

Crump came to the doorway, pausing sadly as he looked in on his friends. He had stayed to help Lector get Nesbitt into his favorite kind of night clothes—a T-shirt and sleep pants—and then had quietly slipped out to give them a moment alone—not to mention a moment to try to process this new twist. Coming back, he found Nesbitt still lying in the bed, unconscious, showing no signs of waking up any time soon. Lector was still hunched over in the chair at the bedside, clasping his hands in front of him. Not that Crump had really expected to find anything different for either of them.

"Buddy, he's gonna be okay," Crump said. "You've gotta get some rest or something!"

Lector slumped back in the chair, running his hands over his face as he stared up at the ceiling. "I don't know that he's going to be alright," he said. "Neither do you."

"He's gonna be because he has to be," Crump insisted.

"I found him," Lector suddenly said. "I thought he was dead. Finding he's alive isn't much comfort if he won't ever wake up."

"Hey, we came out of comas before," Crump snapped.

"He was hurt so badly," Lector rasped. "What happened to Johnson set him so on fire that he ran off in spite of everything I told him and he turned up like this. And the last thing I said to him wasn't something I would ever choose to say to anyone I love if I knew it was going to be the last thing they would ever hear from me. . . ."

"You guys have a lot of trouble," Crump said, "but you know you couldn't love each other more. Nesbitt's gonna be okay, and he probably wasn't even thinking about the spat you two got into before he left."

"Was it just a spat?" Lector said sadly.

"It was just a spat," Crump insisted. "And even though we all wanted Nesbitt's kind of justice, he really was being an idiot, especially just to run off without waiting for you to back him up. He needed to hear what you yelled at him. This isn't your fault!"

"I feel horrible regardless," Lector said. "I couldn't find him in time. . . ."

"Okay, look. Let's try something." Crump grabbed Lector's hand and laid it on Nesbitt's. "Take his hand."

Lector gave him a weirded-out look, but did so.

"Ask him to squeeze your hand if he can hear us," Crump said.

"That's ridiculous," Lector objected. But he froze when there was a definite squeeze. ". . . Nesbitt?"

Crump perked up in relief and joy. "Talk to him," he encouraged. "Tell him everything you've been keeping inside. He'll hear you."

Lector suddenly broke, holding that hand to his forehead in both of his hands as his shoulders shook. "Please forgive me," he choked out. "I was so angry and heartbroken I was blaming you alone, but I also have to take some of the blame. I couldn't find you in time to help you. Please wake up. . . . I can't stand it without you, my dear friend . . . my brother. . . . When I saw you lying there and I thought you were dead, I . . . I didn't know how I was going to cope. When I heard you groan and realized you were still alive, I had hope again. But the doctor isn't giving any of us much hope now. . . ."

"I bet the doc wasn't expecting him to squeeze your hand," Crump said.

"For all I know, that was some kind of reflex," Lector said.

"Aww, come on! Do you really believe that?" Crump snorted.

". . . No," Lector admitted.

"Yeah, of course you don't," Crump soothed. "Okay, so maybe Nesbitt doesn't have the strength to wake up just yet, but he had enough strength to let you know he's still fighting!"

Lector had to smile a bit. "Thank you, Crump."

"Sometimes I wonder how you came to be such a comforting mother hen," Gansley remarked from the doorway.

Both Lector and Crump started and looked up. Gansley was standing there with a genuine smile, but his eyes were sad. Johnson was standing behind him, just staring at Nesbitt in sickened horror.

Crump sighed. "Maybe it was because my own mom was a real piece of work. I wanna be here for my family like she was never there for me."

"We're all so grateful you are," Gansley said. He came in and wearily sat down. "Has there been any change?"

"Nesbitt managed to squeeze my hand," Lector offered.

"Not to mention he did it right after I suggested asking him to squeeze Lector's hand if he could hear us," Crump said. "You're not telling me that was just a coincidence!"

"No, I doubt it was." Gansley smiled a bit more.

Johnson slowly walked in and stared at Nesbitt more closely. "He did this for me," he whispered. "I never wanted something like this to happen! . . ."

"This entire night has been a nightmare for all of us," Gansley said. "But especially for you, of course."

Suddenly Johnson felt weak. He wobbled, and Lector jumped up to steady him. "You sit here," he encouraged. "I'll find another chair."

"You should sit next to Nesbitt," Johnson objected. "We all know you have a special bond with him."

"You can sit here, Lector." Gansley got up from his chair near the head of the bed.

"Thank you." Lector gently pushed Johnson into the first chair and went over to Gansley's. Gansley then moved to another chair farther away in the room.

"I guess there's no point in suggesting we take turns so we can get some sleep," Crump said.

"No, I don't think so," Gansley said. "Although you certainly need to sleep, Johnson."

Johnson shook his head and removed his glasses to massage his eyes. "I know I'd never sleep right now. If I did, I'd only have nightmares."

"Honestly, you're probably gonna have nightmares no matter when you get to sleep," Crump pointed out.

Johnson made a face. "Oh, well, thank you for that ray of sunshine in my life. . . . But you're probably right."

"Why don't you go in your room and try to rest?" Gansley suggested. "I'll come with you. The rest of you make sure to let us know if or when there's any further change."

"Alright," Lector nodded.

Johnson didn't even try to object to the idea of someone watching over him while he slept. His pride wouldn't let him admit it, but he didn't want to be alone right now. And with Gansley being his oldest friend, it seemed especially comforting for him to volunteer to come.

Gansley waited in the hall while Johnson changed into his pajamas. In a moment Johnson opened the door to allow him in, and then immediately walked to the bed and collapsed on it. "I have to admit, the mattress feels incredible after everything that's been happening," he said. He placed his glasses on the nightstand and settled into the softness of the bed.

Gansley sat in a nearby chair. "Even just laying down will be good for you, whether you can sleep or not."

"Gansley . . ." Johnson sounded as afraid as he felt. "Do you think Nesbitt will really be alright?"

The older man fell silent. He hated to be put on the spot that way, especially if he didn't have very encouraging answers to give. "I don't know," he had to admit. "When Lector called me from the medical center, I could hardly understand him; he was practically in hysterics. And when he brought Nesbitt back . . . well . . . Nesbitt looked bad and the doctor's lack of faith made it far worse." Neither of them wanted to say that it sounded like the physician had sent Nesbitt home to die, but they were both thinking it. "Still . . . Nesbitt responded to Lector and Crump. That has to mean something."

"I want to believe it means everything," Johnson said.

"So do I," Gansley said.

". . . I wonder what I should do about telling my parents what happened," Johnson said. "I'd rather not, but they'll hear it on the news if I don't tell them. That would be even worse than if I just got up the courage to say it myself."

"How do you think they'll react?" Gansley asked.

"They'll be horrified and outraged, as all of you are," Johnson said. "I just don't want them to have to worry about me. We're just finally getting back together after so many years. It seems horrible to put a burden like this on them right away."

Gansley smiled a bit at Johnson's consideration. "Well, unless you can keep the story out of the news, I would advise telling them. In fact, I would likely advise telling them in any case. They would want to know. I would certainly want to know if something like that happened to one of my children."

"I probably will," Johnson conceded.

He wasn't sure how or when, but at some point he did end up dozing. For a while his sleep was dreamless, but then the memories of earlier that night began.

_Donna seemed the same as ever when Johnson arrived at her motel room. She smiled at him when she opened the door and saw him. "Hello, Thomas. Come in."_

_Johnson stepped inside and she shut the door. "So tell me, what was so urgent?" he asked. "And why did I have to come alone? You remember my friends; they could help too."_

_"I guess they could, but I really just wanted you." Donna stood looking at him, her hands behind her back. "It's been so long since we've seen each other."_

_Johnson didn't know why, but something didn't feel right. He took a step back. "Were you able to find new work?"_

_"Oh yes, I work down at the docks as a secretary for a lawyer specializing in insurance issues with boats." Donna stepped closer to him. "I like the work, but I miss working for you. You were always the boss I liked best."_

_Innocent enough words, and spoken in another tone they would have sounded sweet, but the way Donna was phrasing everything made it sound ominous. Johnson backed up against the door and adjusted his tie. "I . . . I'm honored," he stammered. "I never realized you felt that way about me. . . ."_

_Donna took his hand and moved it away, then pushed her finger through the knot in the tie to loosen it. "You were always so occupied with work you never realized much of anything else," she said. "It was enough to give a girl a complex."_

_Johnson tried to brush her hand away, but she only pulled on his tie until it came undone. "Donna, please. . . . I don't like this. . . . I never expected anything like this from you. . . ."_

_"You never expected anything from me except typing and research," Donna suddenly spat. "And all I wanted was you!"_

_That made him freeze. He had thought he paid attention to everything that pertained to him. How could he have missed something like that? "You . . . you did? You . . . loved me?"_

_"I don't think I'd put it like that." Donna started in on his shirt, undoing the top buttons._

_That was too much. Johnson straightened and grabbed both her wrists. "I'm sorry, but this has to stop now. I'm not in love with you, Donna, and even if I was, it's hardly appropriate to call me to your room and start undressing me without my permission."_

_"I already said this wasn't about love." Donna glowered at him. "Why won't you cooperate? Don't you find me attractive?"_

_"Yes! You're a very lovely woman," Johnson said. "But I don't want this situation. It's not what I came here for; I thought you were in trouble! And I don't have to explain any more than that. The fact that I don't want it should be enough." He released her wrists and grabbed the doorknob. "I'm leaving now."_

_Suddenly Donna snatched his tie and pulled it around his throat from behind. "You're not leaving!" she screamed, her strangled voice almost animalistic. "I wanted your body from the first day I worked for you and you never gave it to me! Well, you're going to now!"_

_Johnson choked. He reached up, frantic to get his hands between the tie's cloth and his throat. She let it go, but at the same moment, she started to pull his shirt out from inside his trousers. One hand went under and up, feeling across his chest._

_He screamed, catching her wrist and pulling it away. Her other hand was there instantaneously, reaching under his shirt from behind and feeling up his back towards his shoulder blades. He grabbed for that hand too, but then the first hand was back. Always more, always there. . . . It felt like a thousand hands rather than just two. He couldn't keep up._

_"Stop it!" he finally yelled in despair. "Stop!"_

_She threw herself against him full-force, causing them both to topple to the floor. She was above him, her eyes wild and filled with lust. One hand trailed down the side of his face. The other started to undo his belt._

_Johnson shoved her away with all his might and started to get up. Before he could, she was on him again, and several huge musclemen emerged from other parts of the room. They seized Johnson on both sides, forcing him back to the floor._

_"What is this now?!" he cried._

_"They're all dockworkers who owe me favors," Donna said coolly as she came to stand over Johnson. "This was all I wanted."_

_Johnson struggled against them in increasing panic. Their grips were like iron, especially on his small-framed body._

_"Actually, I don't need them," Donna continued. "I could restrain you on my own, as you saw very well. But I thought it would be more fun this way, making you suffer even more."_

_One of them nodded, his thick lips twisting in a repulsive sneer. "After she's done, maybe we'll have some fun with you too." He grabbed Johnson's jaw in his beefy hand, forcing him to turn and face him._

_They all laughed. It was a chilling, disgusting sound._

_Johnson was fighting more desperately now—clawing, scratching, kicking Donna back every time she drew close. It was when two more men appeared to hold his legs down that he just screamed in utter anguish. There was nothing more he could do now. Couldn't anyone hear him? Weren't there other guests here? What about the staff? Didn't anyone care at all?_

_**Help me!** he prayed in terror. **I know I'm not worthy, but . . . please, help me!**_

_The door burst off its hinges. Nesbitt was standing there with his kendo bokken. "Get away from him, you scum!" he snarled, swiping the weapon at the nearest thugs' heads. They both fell over, unconscious._

_Johnson scrambled away, heart pounding, as Nesbitt attacked every one of the wretched men. Donna, suddenly cowardly now that her plan was ruined, tried to make a break for the door. Johnson snatched her arm. "You're not getting away after what you tried to do," he vowed._

_She tried to pull herself free. "You should be worrying about your friend instead."_

_"What?!" Johnson spun around to look. The leader had picked up the end table. "Nesbitt, look out!"_

_Nesbitt downed the penultimate lackey and whirled, but not in time. The heavy table crashed down on his head. His eyes deadened and he collapsed to the floor._

_"NO!" Johnson screamed._

He flew upright in bed. Gansley, startled out of his mind, nearly fell off the chair. "Johnson?!"

Johnson gripped the edge of the quilt, breathing heavily, staring at it but seeing Nesbitt collapsing dead in his nightmare, over and over again. Finally he sobbed, covering his eyes with the palms of his hands.

Gansley came over to the edge of the mattress and sat down. "It was a dream, Johnson," he said. "You're safe now."

Johnson shook his head. "I dreamed about what happened," he said brokenly, "but then it switched. Nesbitt came to save me . . . and he was killed. . . ."

"Nesbitt is still alive," Gansley soothed. "He's going to be alright."

Johnson didn't respond for a moment. ". . . I still don't know how I really got away," he whispered. "It seemed like there was no escape. Somehow I tore myself away from them and ran out the door, but . . . their grips were impossible to break! How did I do it?!"

"I can't imagine," Gansley said. "If I was a more religious person I might say you had supernatural help. I suppose, judging from our past track record, it's not an unreasonable thing to think regardless."

"I prayed," Johnson admitted. "But I'm sure so many of the victims pray and they still can't get away. Why me?"

"I don't know, but I thank God you did," Gansley said.

Johnson shuddered. "If it had really happened . . . I would have been tainted for life. . . ."

"We wouldn't have seen you any differently," Gansley insisted. "It wouldn't have been your fault. You didn't want it and you weren't asking for it. The only people who did anything wrong are the ones who assaulted you—and this is true regardless of their level of success in their outrageous plan. You are guiltless!"

Johnson nodded, falling silent. He really knew that was how they would feel, but he liked to hear it said. Lector had already told him the same thing earlier that night. He would probably need to hear it many more times over the ensuing weeks.

"Do you believe that?" Gansley asked.

"I . . . want to," Johnson said. "Although I still feel like I was weak for it to happen."

"You weren't!" Gansley insisted. "No victim is."

Johnson hoped he could come to believe that. Suddenly he choked out, "How could Donna do that to me?! I thought I knew her! I thought she was a good person!"

"I don't know," Gansley said, his heart heavy.

"Part of me says that if she could do that to me, I can't trust anyone," Johnson said. He looked up. "And yet . . . I know I can trust you and the others. . . ."

"Of course you can," Gansley said. "We will never hurt you."

"I never went with Donna through even a fraction of everything I've been through with all of you," Johnson said. "To still love each other after all of that, I know nothing can separate us."

That brought a smile. "That's right."

"Except . . ." Johnson looked to the open doorway with fear and sadness in his eyes. "Except death. . . ."

Gansley really couldn't say anything to that. All he could do was pray again that Nesbitt would live.

****

Lector was wide-awake, still sadly watching Nesbitt. There had been no more movements, but he was definitely still breathing, something that still filled Lector with hope. The memory of gathering Nesbitt's lifeless body in his arms, sure that he was holding a corpse, sent horror through his veins. He had sobbed hopelessly, so many thoughts running through his mind—things he had never told Nesbitt that he should have, things he had said that he wished he hadn't . . . the longing to have only got there in time to help him before it was too late. . . .

The weak moan had pierced through all of those despondent thoughts. Lector had pulled back, staring at Nesbitt in shock and amazement and joy. He had definitely heard it. And then he had seen that Nesbitt was breathing. He wasn't holding an empty shell. Cradling his cherished friend close, Lector had taken him to his car and laid him on the backseat to drive him to the KaibaCorp medical center.

"I couldn't feel your pulse when I checked because I was so distraught and in agony," he said. "But you let me know then that you were still alive . . . just as you let me know now that you're still fighting. Please, Nesbitt . . . keep fighting. None of us can bear to lose you! It would make Johnson's anguish so much worse. He would never recover or get over it, and I never would either." He reached for Nesbitt's limp hand again. "It only makes it even worse to have to think that I caused this by not being able to find you in time. . . ."

Nesbitt stirred, his eyes slowly opening. "Lector . . . it wasn't your fault," he rasped, even as Lector stared at him in awe. "It was all me . . . and my foolish rash behavior. I didn't blame you for any of it. And . . . hearing Crump encourage you, and all the things you said to me . . . you talked me awake. You gave me the strength not to sink into the darkness, even though it was tempting more than once to just rest for a while. But I was afraid I'd never get back to you if I stopped fighting. I had to get back."

"Nesbitt!" Joy filled Lector's eyes and he stood, bending over the bed to pull his treasured friend into a gentle hug. Nesbitt returned it, clutching Lector as tightly as he could.

Crump was ecstatic. "He's awake!" he called down the hall. He let the two have their moment instead of glomping Nesbitt as well, but his joy was full.

At last Lector pulled back, looking the other man over with a scrutinizing eye. "How are you feeling?"

"Probably as bad as I look . . . or worse," Nesbitt grunted.

Lector sighed. "Honestly, you don't look that bad. Most of the bruises are under your clothes."

"Well, that's something anyway," Nesbitt acknowledged. "But my left eye isn't open all the way. . . . It hurts to try. There's a bruise above it, isn't there?"

"Yes," Lector said.

"I can get you some ice for it," Crump volunteered.

"Thanks," Nesbitt said.

Crump quickly slipped out of the room.

"Nesbitt . . . I have to know," Lector quietly asked. "We all have to know. Did that woman, or any of her men, succeed in raping you?"

"No, they didn't," Nesbitt assured him. "I'm just beat-up, and I got in some good attacks too. I'll be alright."

"Thank God." Lector relaxed, the final fears receding from his eyes.

"You thought that maybe I'd been . . . ?" Nesbitt frowned. It had been one of the key points of his argument with Lector, that maybe he would be in the same danger as Johnson if he went. But he had been too angry to listen.

"It's a reasonable thing to wonder!" Lector exclaimed.

". . . Yeah. Yeah, it is." Nesbitt frowned more. "One of them did try, I'll admit that. I should have paid more attention when you talked about that. I didn't even really think about how all of you would feel; I was so caught up in my rage. I'm sorry."

"You should be," Gansley gruffly said as he and Johnson appeared in the doorway.

"We're just so glad you're alright," Johnson said fervently. "I thought I'd caused one of my best friends to be hurt on my account. . . ."

"I chose to do this," Nesbitt said in surprise.

"To avenge me," Johnson said. "But Nesbitt, if you had died stopping them, I think that would have completely broke me. What happened to me was horrible and I feel so betrayed and violated even though I was able to get away. But I had the comfort of knowing I could come back to all of you. I knew you would all be here to support me and look out for me and do whatever you could to try to ease my anguish. If you had died, I'd have the weight on my heart that you did it for me, and that I could never get you back. I don't want such a burden. It would drag me into the depths of Hell!"

Nesbitt's eyes flickered. "I'm sorry. . . . I wasn't thinking. . . ."

"No, you weren't. But . . . I know you did it because you were so outraged and you felt so protective of me, and I really do appreciate that." Johnson reached and took Nesbitt's hand in both of his. "There was a time when I didn't think anyone could love me that much. I scoffed at the very thought because it sounded so ridiculous. I thought that to care about anyone would take my attention away from my work, so I closed everyone off. I guess that was why Donna was so angry with me. Hell has no fury like a woman scorned, as they say."

"Probably true," Gansley grunted.

"Yeah, but you know what I say?" Crump piped up as he returned with the ice. "Hell's got no fury like a protective buddy."

Nesbitt managed a weak smirk. "That's probably true too." He accepted the ice and held it to his forehead.

"It's absolutely true," Lector said.

Johnson had to smile a bit. His friends all loved him so much. It was going to be a hard road back; already he felt like he needed another shower just from thinking about Donna and her lackeys and their sickening touches. And it would take Nesbitt a while to heal as well. But they were together with their other friends, and Johnson felt that under those circumstances, someday they would both be alright.


End file.
